Expect to be Surprised

1 Samuel 16:1-13

March 30, 2014

Let’s preach this one together, shall we? What strikes you about this wonderfully rich little story about the call of David?

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As I described it a moment ago, this is a wonderfully rich story, and it’s rich with preaching possibilities. I like a lot of them:

Start with the opening lines. Here’s a scene of fascinating confrontation. The elders of the little town of Bethlehem wondering in fear why this visit from the great Samuel, who had judged over all the land, who had selected and anointed Saul as the first king of Israel. His showing up brought way more in the way of threat than promise. Yet in this moment begins, Biblically, the importance of this small village.

That’s a fine beginning, and then we’ve got God saying, on the one hand, “do not look at his appearance,” and then, so soon thereafter, on the other hand falling head over heels in love with David, whose sole qualifications seems to be that “he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome.” Seriously, what’s up with that, God?

We all know David, and we know a lot about where his story is going to go. But what about the other sons who are paraded before Samuel? What about Eliab? His name means, “God is father,” or “God is my father,” so you’d think he would be important enough to get to be the next king. Not only that, he’s the first-born son, so the honor, by rights, should fall to him. Moreover, Eliab was apparently a strong, tall man who followed King Saul into war.

It’s really no wonder that Samuel looks upon him and thinks, “this is the guy.” When he loses out to his baby brother, it’s no wonder that the only other thing we learn about Eliab is that, later on when David starts talking tough about taking on Goliath, Eliab will be quite jealous and mean-spirited about the whole thing. Given his circumstance, that seems a pretty normal response to me, and reminds me a bit of the elder brother in the Jesus’ story about the prodigal son.

What about Abinadab, whose name meant literally, “my father is willing,” as in, perhaps, “my father is willing to give me up to take on King Saul, but do I have any say in the matter?” Well, we’ll never know because Abinadab is one of the characters who appear for one moment and then follow the king off to war before shuffling off the stage of Biblical history altogether. 

Then there’s the third brother, Shammah, whose name means loss, desolation, or astonishment. He appears later on as the father of Jonadab, who, let’s be honest here, sets up the rape of Tamar.

Anyone who ever calls for a return to Bible-based family values really ought to be required to read the entirety of the David saga. The family of David could provide all the fodder necessary for a show called “Premodern Family.”

Their story is as messed up as it is fascinating, yet as I read the passage over again in recent days, they did not strike me as the most interesting piece of the textual puzzle.

The fascinating character, to me, is Samuel. He is the character of remarkable faithfulness. Consider his position for a moment. God calls him to identify the new king even while the old king, Saul, still sits on the throne. Samuel is treading on dangerous ground here, and he knows it. Not only that, God tells him to bypass the culturally accepted norms for picking from among a line of sons. Everything in the culture of ancient Israel says, “pick the firstborn.” When Samuel lays eyes on him, he sees a tall, strong man – the image of authority, and naturally thinks he’s found his man. But God says, “no, not that one, nor the next, nor the next, nor the one after that. In fact, I’ve got my eyes on number seven!”

Samuel looks at number seven, at David, and probably thinks, in accordance with cultural expectations, “this one is too pretty to be a ruler.”

The late, great Molly Ivins famously observed that to be president of the United States all you really need is “a good head of hair, and a good line of talk.” The expectations in ancient Israel were a bit different. You needed to be big enough and strong enough to take on the Goliaths of the surrounding armies. King Saul, while said to be quite handsome, was noted first for standing head and shoulders taller than any other man in Israel. David had lovely pink cheeks and beautiful eyes, but it doesn’t sound like he could stand in the same line of tough guys as his eldest brother, much less in the line with King Saul.

So Samuel must be left to wonder, “what in the world is God thinking? What does God see that I don’t see? And, for this pretty boy I’m out here risking my life? This will not end well for me.”

Samuel could easily have said to Jesse, “thanks so much for letting me meet all the boys. Now, Eliab, come with me. You’re going to be the next king of Israel.”

No one would have known any different. Clearly Eliab looked the part, and would have been the one of Jesse’s sons that everyone would expect to be tapped. But Samuel does not disobey the inward voice of God.

That’s the fascinating part, to me, and it simply continues the arc of Samuel’s long and faithful life. Recall the beginning of his story – serving in the temple to the elderly Eli, the boy Samuel is called by God to give Eli the bad news that the time of his family’s power has come to an end. Samuel delivers that news.

Here, he delivers what can only come as bad news to Eliab, and as shocking news to everyone else who hears it, including David.

Samuel, while certainly not the perfect man, is, nonetheless, a compelling figure of obedience, and his story underscores that challenging aspect of the life of faith. As Bonhoeffer observed, for many of us it is never a question of faith, but always one of obedience. Obedience is show much more difficult than mere belief.

In fact, a great deal of the time we let our doubts about creeds and orthodoxies – about belief systems – grow so thick that we never even get around to questions of obedience. Doubt becomes an excuse for inaction.

That’s why I love Samuel. He is filled with doubts – you can see them throughout his story. Yet nevertheless, Samuel does what he knows God is calling him to do: speak the truth as he has been given to understand it to the powers that be in his time. Speak the truth to power, even when power doesn’t want to hear it.

It’s instructive to hear, again, another part of Bonhoeffer’s observation about obeying the call of Christ. He famously said, “when Christ calls us he bids us come and die.” Yeah, speaking truth to power can get you in an incredible amount of trouble. Indeed, it can get you dead.

I like to think that David, as complicated a figure as could be, learned some simple truths from Samuel, and that those simple truths shaped and informed some of the songs David would compose.

Yes, speaking truth to power, being utterly obedient to God, obedient to the point of a cross, can lead you deep into the valley of the shadow of death. David would surely come to know that. The life of faith can leave you feeling as if enemies are encamped all around you, and David certainly would come to know that.

But I like to think that David learned from Samuel that even in the darkest valley, goodness and mercy would follow, and a dwelling place in the house of the Lord would be there forever and ever. May each of us find that in our own lives of faithful obedience to the always new and challenging call of God. Amen.